


Valentine Boy

by jisungtheworld (winwinnie)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Han Jisung | Han & Lee Felix are Best Friends, Light Angst, Multi, Pastel Felix, eboy chan, eboy minho, softer than the pillows you're using to sleep on this concept, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-22 17:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22253365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winwinnie/pseuds/jisungtheworld
Summary: Chan and Minho have the perfect relationship. They’ve been dating since the first year of university, and the only thing they’ve argued about is the right amount of flowers to buy off the florist for Valentines Day.Enter a boy with too-big pastel hoodies, pink eyeshadow, and glitter on his freckles.Enter Lee Felix.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Hwang Hyunjin
Comments: 51
Kudos: 320





	1. peonies

**Author's Note:**

> title inspired by loona 1/3's valentine girl

_Every year, the flower shop just by their university gets the same order. It's a nice shop, much too expensive for a casual bouquet, but their Valentine's Day offer is too good to refuse. Coins pass across the counter, exchanged for stalks wrapped in ribbon._

_They haven't been at the university for long, but it's enough for the beginnings of a tradition._

_Every year, on the same day. The order comes in weeks before, and is always picked up at the same time. The same two hands pay, while the other pair keep the flowers close to their chest. The ribbon binding them together is always the same shade of pink._

_The same bouquet, a simple combination of two flowers, lives on their kitchen counter until the bright petals decorate the tiles of the floor._

_It seems as strong as their relationship. The flowers never last, but the tradition is something that will outlast even the small shop, until an acorn planted on the first day had grown into the most magnificent oak. Simple, but strong._

_The workers at the shop expect the order. They know the time it arrives by heart, hands over mouths as they gossip about how cute the couple is. How some things never change, and that the love between them shines as bright and ancient as the stars._

_This year, the ribbon is the same. An identical size bouquet to last year, with the same silver coins that they expect to glint across the table. They expect the same order, two flowers, alstroemeria and peonies._

_The sunflowers come as surprise._   
  
  


[-]  
  
  


Chan is sat on the couch when the doorbell rings. The sound rings out loud and clear in their apartment; although both Minho and him love having music playing at all times, they've only just gotten inside from classes.

Well, Minho had been in class. Chan, in typical Chan-fashion, had not been in class. He didn't have a lecture to attend at that point (at least, he was fairly certain of that, after Changbin had ripped up his timetable in revenge for spilling chocolate milk over his new laptop, after one very late night he'd spent producing) and been waiting outside for Minho to join him. It was the best place to be at that moment, since he was trying to hide from Changbin, who avoided classes like they were the plague as well.

Not even revenge tactics could force the younger boy to come within a three-foot radius of someone who even just _looked_ like they were studying.

Plus, the natural light made Chan's nail polish sparkle rather nicely. He'd gone for a mixture of silver and black this time, matching the chains hanging from his hip, and although he was usually content with plain black, the colour scheme was beginning to grow on him.

Minho, of course, had noticed straight away.

He'd held up Chan's fingers to his own hair, comparing the grey-ish colour, and laughing when Chan had told him he'd done it on purpose. "I don't believe you," he'd said as they made their way back to their apartment, ruffling his hair away from its signature middle-parting, "That would require thought, and you, Mr. Bang Chan, are not the most blessed in the braincell department."

"You'll be begging me to let you share my braincells in a few months," Chan had replied, grin equally as wide, "All that bleach must be starting to sink in by now."

Not that he minded Minho's silvery hair, of course. The colour looked stunning on him, especially when paired with some of their black and silver t-shirts, but he knew all too well what the price of coloured hair was. His own was only just beginning to heal, and that was _without_ Hyunjin's attempt to burn it off with a flame-thrower.

They'd made the rest of their way back to the apartment in relative peace. Chan had thought he'd spotted Changbin at one point and pulled them both behind a lamppost to hide, which had earned them both a few strange looks, but it had turned out not to be him.

Minho opens the door in one smooth motion. He kicks his shoes off and sends them flying to the other side of the room, barely missing Chan as he does so.

"Watch where you're kicking those things!" Chan yells when he doesn't even get an apology. Minho's shoes are well known for _not_ being light and delicate, much like the rest of his fashion sense. Getting hit with one of those in the face would _hurt_.

"Maybe I'll just have to aim for you next time," comes the only response. Minho is moving from the kitchen to the living room and back again the whole time he's speaking, leading to some very interesting audio effects. Chan frowns. Maybe he should sample that for his next track.

His retort about _actually, one of the kids could have been hit_ dies before it's even left his mouth. Now completely distracted, he stands up, ready to run to the bedroom to grab his microphone. There's the beginning of a melody in his head already, a piano track to mix with the eerie effects of the fading voc-

The doorbell rings, and just as quickly as the song had arrives, it disappears.

Chan pauses. They weren't expecting anyone, were they?

Hyunjin should still be in classes, as he often had full days. Unless Jeongin was skipping high school to visit them (which would be a pretty bad idea, as Chan had been voted the most likely to thwart skiving attempts only a few weeks earlier, although Minho had then prompty been voted most likely to hide the said skiving student from Chan), he would be nowhere near their apartment either. And, checking his watch, it's lunchtime. That would make it right on time for Seungmin's prime hour of scamming students out of money near the fountain.

He glances to Minho, who's frozen in the hallway. "I don't think so," Minho replies after thinking for a few seconds. "We don't have any deliveries due soon, do we?"

There's a pause, and then, "Could it be Changbin?"

Chan shudders. It better not be Changbin. He'd thought he'd successfully fooled him into hanging around the maths halls! "I'm not opening the door."

Minho raises his eyebrows. "Uh, I think you are. It's your own fault for spilling that chocolate milk, and I'm not getting impaled in your place."

"You won't be saying that if Changbin does kill me." But he gets up anyway. There's no use arguing against Minho when he knows he's not going to win. It's just a waste of energy, and he's going to need that in order to run away from Changbin as quickly as possible.

"He won't kill you," Minho calls from the kitchen, "He's like two foot tall. I'd bet on you winning any day, babe."

Chan just rolls his eyes, and eyes the door one last time. Ugh, it better not be Changbin. Although what Minho's said is probably correct, and Chan would be able to win, that means nothing if it's not a fair fight. They never had been able to work out where Hyunjin had gotten the flamethrower from, after all.

He opens the door, ready to dodge Changbin's choice of weapon immediately.

And end up frozen in place.

Standing in front of him is not Changbin. It's a boy maybe an inch taller than him, and a few years younger than Chan himself. He's practically drowning in a massive pale-pink sweatshirt, the edges of which spill out from his pastel blue dungarees. It merges into a collar by his neck, the fabric decorated with pain-stakingly neat embroidered flowers. His hand is still hanging in the air by the doorbell, fingertips barely visible from inside his sleeves.

The make-up around his eyes shimmers slightly in the flickering hallway light. It matches his clothes: delicate shades of light purple and pink that make his honey skin seem to glow. His hair is a light blond and certainly much softer that Chan's had ever been. As Chan tries not to let his mouth drop open, the boy squeaks.

He takes a step backwards finally, breaking both of them out of whatever strange trance they'd been in.

"Oh," he raises his hands in panic, cheeks turning a flustered pink, "I'm so sorry! I thought-"

Chan doesn't hear the rest of whatever the _very_ cute boy has to say. Instead, his mind has broken down, reduced to repeating a single word over and over again.

_freckles freckles freckles freckles freckles_

There is _glitter_ on the boy's freckles. It had caught in the light as he'd stepped back, glinting a mesmerising silver in the yellow of the hallway. The shade almost matched Chan's nails, and if he wasn't completely frozen to the spot, he doubts he'd have been able to stop himself from taking a few steps forwards and comparing them.

There's a presence behind him. Arms wrap around his chest, pulling him from out of the middle of the doorway. Chan can't fight it. He knows what Minho's body feels like pressed against his, and the younger boy knows him well enough to know he won't take offence at being pushed out of the way like this.

"I'm so sorry," Freckles says again, but he can't stop looking from Chan to Minho and back again. "I really did think this is where he lived. I hope I didn't disturb you."

Minho smiles. "There's no problem," he says, letting go of Chan in favour of leaning against the doorframe, "It's an easy mistake to make. Jisung actually lives in the dorm to our left, but someone swapped the numbers to the doors a few months back."

Freckles' eyes widen. He cranes his neck down the corridor, probably checking that what they're saying makes sense. It does (why would they lie about it? the only reason why they haven't changed it back is because it's too funny to watch Hyunjin enter an apartment full of strangers every time he comes to visit), and Freckles laughs at loud.

It's cute.

Contrasting to his deep voice and soft clothes, and yet so perfectly _him_ that Chan wouldn't expect anything else. Beside him, he feels Minho almost slip of the doorframe. Maybe he wasn't the only one whose heart had just skipped a beat, after all.

"Thank you so much," says Freckles, before turning to knock on the correct apartment instead.

As soon as he turns away, Minho closes their own door slowly. It closes with a click, loud in the absolute silence of the room. All Chan can hear is the beating of his own heart, and Freckles' laugh.

"Holy shit," Minho says eventually, as Chan flops down onto the sofa, eyes wide and still looking shell-shocked. "He kinda looked like a cat. Is it weird that I'm slightly in love already?"

All Chan can do is smile back.

The conversation dies down after that. They'll talk through it later, but only once they've processed the experience on their own. It's important to talk, the first few awkward months and lack of communication had taught them that, but it's equally as important not to rush into things. They tread carefully.

Minho returns to the kitchen, even if Freckles remains on his mind. Chan kicks his feet up into the air, lying backwards on the couch. The last few chords of the song are still ringing in his head, a melody improvised. He'd thought he'd forgotten it, and maybe he had, but Freckles' face just won't leave his mind. The sight turns into a song, just as it always does.

Maybe he should have been more careful with Changbin's laptop. This is the best inspiration he's had in a while, and the couch is already miles behind him. For now, he's locked in his room, the keyboard and half-assed producing set in front of him blending into hour after hour.

He doesn't rest until the song is finished.

And from there, it lies forgotten. Slowly, Freckles faded into the background of their lives. Every so often, they catch a glance of someone reminding them of him: the pastel clothes, the glowing skin, the very edge of a sentence as Minho runs to his next class in the rain.

The world keeps turning. Chan and Minho don't have the time to be chasing sunflowers.  
  
  


[-]  
  
  


Chan picks up a black shirt, and holds it against his body. "What do you think?"

Minho squints at the fabric. Really, it's just another black shirt. It looks the same as the rest of Chan's black shirts, right down to the low v-cut neck. He almost contemplates giving in and saying it's fine, but who is Lee Minho if he's willing to give up that easily. Stubbornness is practically his middle name. "How is that any different to the last shirt you bought?"

"This one has silver buttons," Chan says, rolling his eyes. But he looks back at the shirt again and sighs, putting it back on the rail.

Minho scoffs, but it's not mean. They've already got a bag filled full of new clothes between them, but it's well known that this store will always be their favourite. It's pretty hard to locate, tucked behind a few side-roads that look like shady alleys upon first glance, but the clothes are so much better than anywhere else nearby. Just the right mix of vintage and alternative, gender-neutral, and most importantly, full of items support their e-boy lifestyle perfectly.

"Try it on," he says. Chan looks up in surprise, as if he hadn't still been glancing longingly behind him every five seconds.

"Really?"

"It's your money," Minho takes the shirt back off the rail and hands it back to Chan. He's got to admit that at a second glance, there's much more intricacies in the shirt than he'd first thought. The fit is quite nice as well, and it would suit Chan well. "It's nice. The buttons match your nails." He waggles his eyebrows, "Good for a strip tease, even"

Chan rolls his eyes to hide his grin. "Shut up."

He takes the shirt, taking care to run his fingers over Minho's knuckles. The fabric passes between them, and he walks off towards the changing rooms. Minho watches him as he goes.

He'll be a while. He always is. Despite how easily he buys similar clothes, Chan is incredibly meticulous when it comes to what he wants to wear. Every outfit is coordinated, thought through how well it fits with the rest of his wardrobe, how it makes him appear from every angle. It's what made him stand out so well on the internet, in a world so obsessed with how things appear.

Minho turns back to the clothes on the rail next to him. They're quite formal, much more suited to Chan's taste than his, but he's been needing a new shirt for a while now. As much as he'd prefer to go his whole life in black-and-white striped sleeves under t-shirts, job interviews disagree.

A pretty slither of fabric catches his eyes. Sliver, matching his hair, Chan's nails, the buttons on Chan's shirt, and he pulls the clothes on the rail apart to get a better look.

Someone stares back at him through the clothes.

Minho takes a step back out of shock. It takes a while for his beating heart to slow down. There's someone standing on the other side of the rail, he just hadn't spotted them before. They must have pulled the clothes on their corresponding sides back at the same time, and-

Freckles?

Now that the boy has also stepped backwards, Minho can see his face clearly. It _is_ Freckles, his cheeks just as rosy and eyes glittering with just as much life. He must recognise Minho as well, by the look on his face.

Minho smiles, not expecting anything back.

Freckles smiles back at him.

This time, however, Minho's not being pushed to the side. There's no apartment door digging into his back, and Chan still hasn't emerged from the changing rooms, so he's not trying to stop him from embarrassing himself.

When Freckles smiles back this time, it's just for Minho.

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you again this soon," he says, pulling the clothes on the rack slightly further apart and revealing more of his pretty face. Minho almost drops the bag he'd been holding. From the impression he'd had outside their apartment, Freckles had seemed pretty shy. But now, having given up holding the clothes back, he comes around the side of the shelves, armed with conversation and delicate make-up.

Minho smiles back. His mind is working on auto-pilot. "You seem to know your way around this shop better than the dorms. Is this where you've been hiding the whole time?"

Freckles laughs. He comes closer, finally resurfacing from the end of the shelves, and Minho's breath is stolen away in one fell swoop.

This time, he's wearing a cropped lilac sweater over a pink t-shirt, accompanied by light blue jeans. The bottoms of his trousers are rolled up, revealing pink socks and matching pink vans. And now that Minho is closer, he can pick out the same intricate details that he'd noticed on Freckles' last outfit.

The lace hem on his rolled-up trousers. Tiny sequins sewn onto the jeans’ pockets. All tiny details, but with enough individuality that Minho has no doubts Freckles had put them there himself. Even now, as they get closer, there are the same flowers of the collar of this lilac sweater that had been there before.

Sunflowers. Embroidered by hand, no doubt, as each bright yellow petal is a slightly different length, the stitches not quite at machine perfection. And yet the skill is still remarkable. The colours are beautiful, almost the exact shade as the real thing, and they practically light up Freckles' skin.

"They're sunflowers," Freckles' voice breaks Minho out of his thoughts, only now making him realise that he must have been silent for quite some time. He hadn't meant to stare, he really hadn't, but there was something about the delicate stitch-work that had drawn him in and not let him go.

"I know," he says. And then - _oh no, that sounded kind of rude, he doesn't want Freckles thinking he hates flowers or something_ \- "I mean, they're pretty distinctive. Whoever did them must be really skilled."

Freckles goes bright red, confirming Minho's theory. "They're not _that_ good," he says, hands going up to tug at the hem of his sweatshirt, "There's more than a few mistakes, and none of the petals are the right size, and I accidentally sewed the fabric together the first time so you can still see where the needle went through-"

"They look perfect."

Freckles freezes mid-sentence. He looks at Minho again, as if just seeing him for the first time. The embarrassment on his face turns to shock, then to curiosity, and then splits into a smile. "Thank you."

His voice is quiet, making it hard to hear with quite how deep it's gone, but so incredibly sincere. The shop seems to fade out into the distance. For a heartbeat, they both stare at the embroidered sunflowers in silence.

Then-

"Min!"

Chan's voice carries well, considering how lost Minho had been in his thoughts. The shop comes back into focus in a roar of sound, the conversation of people all around them dragging whatever was left of the moment they'd just shared away. And yet, as Freckles glances back up, he looks just as startled as Minho feels.

"Do you think these trousers would fit Hyunjin?" Chan continues. Far enough away that he doesn't realise what he's interrupted - although, Minho doesn't know what to call what he's just interrupted either. "He's been looking for a pair like this for a while, and I know it isn't his birthday for months but-"

"I should be going."

Freckles' voice tears Minho back. He's picked up his bags, bags that he hadn't even noticed he was carrying, and is already moving towards the exit of the shop. There are more than a few people in his way, but he dodges them effortlessly. Minho wonders if he's ever taken dance classes. He's got the natural air of a dancer, talent that Minho could spot a mile away. 

He wouldn't been in any of Minho's classes, but maybe Hyunjin would know him. They look around a similar age.

Then again, even if he's never taken a dance class in his life, he might still know Hyunjin.

The younger boy has a tendency to work his way into every social group, even if none of them quite knew how he got there. None of them got on that well with him either, and Hyunjin's good looks tended to keep people wanting to only watch from a distance, but he still managed to keep on top of all the gossip at college. It wouldn't be surprising if Freckles' knew Hyunjin, or maybe even if Hyunjin knew Freckles' real na-

"Can I get your name?"

Minho calls. He'd forgotten in the heat of the moment, too caught up in thoughts and fantasies to make it back to the real world in time. And even now, as he calls out, Freckles is already gone. The door to the shop closes with a mocking ring of a bell, and Freckles' outline fades into the crowd of people outside.

The question dies in the warmth of the shop, and the last few yellow sunflower petals fall to the floor.

Chan appears from behind him, warmth against the cold. Not quite a sunflower, but just as bright. "Who was that?" he asks, when he sees Minho staring out into the glass, "What do you think? They might be too short, but it's the largest size they have that's not going to be too wide."

Minho turns. He doesn't even glance at the jeans, but instead takes Chan's free hand, holding it tight. "They look perfect."  
  
  


[-]  
  
  


The weather gets colder. The picturesque hopes of a white Christmas are long gone, but the dark clouds that hang over the city certainly haven't. The temperature plummets, the roads freeze over, and Felix's breath hands cold and white in the icy air.

The snow falls.

It's thick. Almost all at once, the sky seems to open up. The grey clouds shake with anger, before crying pale tears, burying the flowers of spring deep back beneath the ground. The soil will be frozen solid soon anyway, judging by how his shoes crunch on the frosty grass.

There are hardly any cars out on the road at this time. It's not particularly late, Felix even checks his watch just to make sure he hasn't been thrown forward in time a few hours, but the blinking face displays exactly what he'd expecting. The sky is so dark that it could be midnight. The snow is falling so heavily that he can barely see three feet in front of him.

It's cold.

Curse his dedication to fashion, Felix is _not_ suitably dressed for a blizzard.

He looks cute, but that's practically a given when it comes to him (not to be biased, of course, but he's had enough people hitting on him to last a lifetime). His baggy jeans aren't doing much against the cold. The light blue sweater is too big, and the wind whistles through the holes in the woollen fabric. He's wearing his pink Dr Martens, so at least his toes aren't in danger of freezing off any time soon, but his fingers aren't so lucky.

Whose great idea was it for him not to wear a coat? 

Felix snorts to himself. He rubs his hands together, trying to at least keep his body and mind active. Jisung was the one who'd taken the coat, of course, and it was more that Felix was the idiot for letting him borrow it. But Jisung’s eyes had been so big, and the reason that he'd lent his own coat to a cute dance major was too pitiful to ignore.

It was an added bonus that he got to see Jisung drowning in Felix's already-too-big coat. The material looked huge on Felix, but he managed to play the look off, the pastel tones matching the glitter on his cheeks and shoes. Jisung looked more like a child playing dress-up. 

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

But now, every step hurts. Felix's fingers are so cold that they've become warm. The pavement in front of him is beginning to become indistinguishable from the road, and he doesn't recognise this area of the city at all. The lights shouldn't be on this early, and the snow has blanketed every distinguishable feature he had been relying upon. 

It's cold.

Felix is shivering. Where is he going again? Jisung's apartment- no, that can't be right, he's just left. His own apartment? The thought makes his insides freeze a little more. His apartment might be just as cold as the snow outside, and it certainly isn't any less lonely. His apartment has peeling wallpaper, a shower that barely works, plastic cutlery, and most importantly, low rent prices. It may be a dump, but it's all he can afford. Most of his money goes to clothes, in a desperate attempt to keep up appearances. The feeling of looking pretty warms his heart every time he sees himself in the mirror. 

If he shines bright enough, maybe he can block out the sight of his world crumbling in around him. 

Right, he's going to his apartment.

His hands have gone down to his jeans' pockets on instinct, running the pads of his fingers over the flowers he'd stitched there. Sunflowers, to be specific. Bright yellow, shining just as bright as him, and they're soft underneath his hands. They keep him grounded, keep him looking up and making his way through the maze of stree-

He steps into the road.

The sunflowers under his fingers don’t move. The snow beneath his feet sinks slightly further, and he’s so cold. The wind is so strong. His fingers might be turning blue for all that he knows, but he can’t see them anymore. The dark sky is now a swirling black, not even being able to kid himself into thinking it’s still grey.

The world is covered in a blanked of white, so thick and so heavy. The sunflowers he planted in the park near his house might not come up this year, he thinks. It’s so cold, and the ground is frozen over.

This is no weather for sunflowers.

Felix keeps walking. The road might have ended, but it might have also just begun. His clothes are soaked through. His fingers are so numb that he can’t feel the stitchwork any more.

There are no cars. He'd been so sure there were no cars. 

So why are there headlights coming right towards him?


	2. alstromeria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? updating 6 days later than valentines day, when I'd originally planned to end the fic?  
> I don't know what you're talking about

The breaks scream.

There's no other way to describe the sound, as the car comes to a screeching halt. Chan's foot had slammed on the brakes so quickly that the car had no time to slow gradually, and instead they were thrown forwards. 

It's not effective- the snow on the ground causes them to spin out of control anyway. Minho's seatbelt catches his neck, pulling tight and digging deep into his throat. He gags on the motion, hands coming up instinctively to protect his head from hitting the front of the car. Chan's foot stays frozen on the brakes even as they come to a stop. His fingers are pale against the steering wheel, shaking slightly. 

The sound of Minho's heart beating in his ears is the only thing that's louder than the brakes.

They'd just been on their way back from the supermarket. The weather forecast had been on high alert, and so it had made sense to stock up. Chan ate so much that most of their emergency stash of supplies had 'mysteriously disappeared', and with the amount of snow actually predicting only seeming to increase, they'd decided that it was better to be safe than sorry. 

Apparently, everyone else had also had the same idea, so the shelves were practically empty, but that was just a minor problem.

They'd grabbed what they could, using their e-boy looks as an advantage to scare off a few middle-aged moms, and made it out as quickly as possible. The snow had already begun to fall in thick white droves, making it impossible to see out of the windshield. Chan had been driving slowly and carefully, silver nails glinting in the pale light, but- 

The sound of a body hitting their windshield had wasn't something Minho would ever forget. 

He glances at Chan, who still hasn't moved. He's still in shock, and Minho want so desperately to check up on him, but he's already scrambling out of the car. There's no time to shut the door behind him before he's hurtling forwards, towards the body crumpled in front of him.

"Oh god," he says, more out of habit than anything. His breath is cloudy, snow catching in his hair. It's so cold, and he's never been more grateful for his thick winter coat, but as he gets closer to the boy on the ground- _he's just wearing a sweater, how hasn't he frozen already?_ "Are you okay?"

Behind him, he can hear the distinctive sound of Chan's army boots in the snow. He rushes forwards with the same urgency, and crouches down next to the boy. His jeans will be soaked through from the wet ground, and it can't be good for the chains hanging from his hip either, but neither of them care that much at the moment.

The boy groans.

Minho's heart soars. He stumbles backwards, one hand held over his trembling heart. Okay. _Okay._ The boy is making sounds, that's got to mean he's okay. There's nothing staining the ground, so there certainly aren't any open cuts. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have any internal injuries, and he still looks so _small_ and _cold_.

 _And_ , Minho frowns, hoping that the snow is just playing tricks on his eyes, _familiar._

"Freckles?"

Chan gets there before him, helping the boy into a sitting position. Now that his face isn't pressed into the road, his features are so incredibly distinctive. It is- it _is_ Freckles. Right down to his fluffy hair, his glittering cheeks, the sunflowers stitched into his clothes. 

Freckles rubs his forehead. He looks pretty taken aback from the impact, and the way his tiny body shivers in the cold just isn't right. "Who's Freckles?" He asks in his hauntingly deep voice. He tries to push himself away from the car, attempting to stand up, only to fall straight back to the floor. One of his ankles had given way underneath him, and by the look on his face, it wasn't without pain. 

"Let me help you up," says Minho, stepping forwards. He kneels down, ready to scoop Freckles up, and it's only then when the boy must see realise who they are. He does a double take - practically a _triple_ take - and manages to go through five separate emotions in the span of a single second. 

His cheeks are bright red, maybe from the cold, but the high-pitched squeaking sound he makes immediately afterwards says something else. He tries to scoot away again, but his ankle gets in the way. The rosy colour of his face immediately drains, and the quick nod he gives afterwards heart-breaking. 

Minho places one of his hands under Freckles' legs, and the other behind his back. He nods at Chan to open the door to the backseat of the car, and manages to get Freckles inside without much hassle. He winces as he lands on the soft fabric. In the time it takes Minho to make his way around back into the passenger seat, he's already managed to get his bright pink shoe off. 

His foot is definitely swollen.

It's a miracle how he'd managed to get his shoe off without crying. Even now, as he peels of his sock, Minho can't help but flinch at the sight. It's paler than skin normally should be, probably from the cold, but rapidly changing colour. The area right around the swollen ankle is tinged red, and the shade only seems to be darkening.

Chan hisses through his teeth. "Are you... okay?"

Freckles looks up with a dead-pan expression. "Do I look okay?" he says, before flustering, "I mean- I'm fine! It was all my fault anyway; I should have looked properly before trying to cross the road." One of his hands goes down to the sunflowers stitched into his clothes, rubbing his thumb over the pattern in a circular motion.

"We should have been driving more carefully," says Chan, frowning. They're stopped in the middle of the road still, but no one else is going to be insane enough to be out driving in this weather. Even though they've only been parked for a couple of minutes, a thick layer of snow has formed over the windshield.

Freckles doesn't reply.

It's clear neither of them want to let the others take the blame, and so the silence that ensues is awkward. Minho takes the opportunity to glance outside again. Although it's much warmer in the car, they can't be lulled into a false sense of security. The snow outside is still piling up. They can't waste too much time here, or else it'll become impossible to drive.

"Chan," he turns to say, but Chan is already nodding at him. They don't quite want to ask where Freckles would like to go, especially when they don't know quite how injured his ankle is. Besides... why was he outside in such weather anyway?

The fact that he doesn't have a coat is concerning. It's even more that he doesn't seem fussed about that fact, or has even asked for anyone to be contacted and told that he's injured. A slither of ice runs down Minho's spine, and it's not from the cold outside.

"Why were you out in the cold anyway?" Chan asks, thinking along the same lines as Minho. He still hasn't started the car. Freckles shifts in the back-seat, staring at his foot as if it's the most fascinating thing in the world. Minho has checked. It really isn't, unless you think the sight of an ankle rapidly turning an alarming shade of purple is interesting.

"He doesn't mean to pry," he says eventually, when Freckles doesn't respond after a few more seconds. Chan glares at him, and Minho hurriedly corrects himself with "We're just curious. You don't have to answer if it's too personal."

Freckles looks up. His cheeks are red, and not just from the cold this time. His shifting isn't because he's uncomfortable, it's because he's embarrassed. 

"It's a funny story," he says, laughing nervously in a way that Minho takes means it really isn't a funny story, "You see, I was on my way back from my friend's house, because he was playing this weird-ass anime music really loud, and it was giving me a headache..."

He stops.

Minho turns back expectantly, raising his eyebrows. "And?"

"Yeah. That's- uh - that's it."

The car falls into complete silence. Chan's hand is resting on the key to start the engine, but he's twisted around in his seat to stare at Freckles in disbelief. Minho is in a similar position. "That's it?"

Freckles smiles guiltily. "Yes?"

Chan and Minho stare at each other in disbelief. For a good few seconds, there's nothing except the silence again. And then- "That's fair," says Chan, finally moving to start the engine. The car comes to life almost immediately, the windshield wipers pushing off the heavy amount of snow that had settled. There's a thin layer of frost left, but the heaters have also come roaring into life.

Freckles sits back in his seat. The way he shifts closer to the heater in the door is painfully obvious, and Minho shrugs off his coat without a second thought. "Take your sweater off and use this instead."

Freckles looks down at himself. It's almost as if he hadn't realised he was practically dripping from having lain down in the snow earlier. His cheeks shimmer as he pulls the soft fabric over his head, and Minho's coat practically drowns him in the fabric. It's a thick winter coat, and Minho's arms are already mourning its loss, but he'll survive.

Besides, he thinks, turning away from Freckles to hide how embarrassingly red his cheeks have gone, it's kind of cute on him. 

"Thanks," Freckles eventually says, as Chan starts driving. The tyres don't agree with the amount of snow on the roads, squealing in a way that can't be healthy. It's a good thing they'd been nearly home from the supermarket, as they're not going to get much further in this weather. Minho tries not to cringe as the sound goes straight through him, instead turning back to face Freckles again.

"How far away do you live?"

Freckles runs a hand through his hair. He looks outside and sighs. "Too far in this weather. Listen, thanks for picking me up, but it's too much of a hassle to drop me off like this. I can just walk."

Minho frowns. He's not hearing things, right? He hasn't just imagined that Freckles had seriously suggested walking half-way across the city in this weather, and with a sprained ankle? Maybe too many years of sitting through Seungmin and Jeongin's choir practices have finally done it. Although, if losing his hearing means he never has to attend one of them again, maybe there is some good from the situation.

"I'm serious!" Freckles protests. He's still shivering, still bundled up in Minho's coat, and still very much unable to shift his weight without wincing. 

Yeah, he's not getting far.

"Quit ignoring me! I'm serious! I'll-" he looks around for something to threaten them with, rather unsuccessfully, "I'll just jump out right now!"

"Nice try," Chan replies smoothly. He flicks the child lock on for the backseat, smiling in the rear-view mirror when Freckles tries the handles to no avail. 

He looks like he's about to protest, but Minho raises his eyebrows. "Stop complaining," he says, with no real hint of malice in his tone, "You know we're not going to let you walk back until the snowstorm has stopped. The only decision you have to make is whether we drop you off at our apartment or Jisung's."

Freckles pales. 

"That's what I thought," says Minho. He turns back to face the road, and can't quite miss the smile Chan shoots at him. He's turned the radio on, and the song fills the car with a comfortable silence, soft lyrics bouncing off a tune that seems to echo the falling snow outside.

The singer weaves a melody of winter flowers. It's a message about spring, about how the wait for the sun to come up isn't always a long one. There's something about fate that Minho doesn't quite catch, but the sound of Chan humming along is more than perfect.

There are other flowers mentioned, but none of them seem to stay in his mind for quite as long as the sunflowers stitched into Freckles' clothes, or the memory of peonies woven into Chan's hair.

The two boys sitting beside him outshine every coloured petal he could possibly imagine. 

\---

Jisung's laptop is on the floor of his apartment, but neither of them are actually watching. The bright colours and loud sounds go over Felix's head, just like they've always done. The rapid-fire Japanese gives him a headache, and when combined with the equally as quick Korean subtitles, Felix has never cursed being born Australian more. It's not even like Jisung wouldn't be able to understand English subtitles, but the illegal anime streaming site they're viewing on only has Korean.

Felix squints at the screen. In the five seconds he'd stopped paying attention, about three different sub-plots seem to have been created and resolved. The girl on screen squeals, and when Felix turns to face Jisung, the other boy is staring with equally as glazed-over eyes.

"I'm gonna be honest," Felix says, flinching when some sort of monster appears out of nowhere, casting a neon green shadow over their bowl of popcorn, "I think I lost track of what's happening at least three episodes ago."

Jisung turns his head to look at Felix incredibly slowly, "That's two more episodes than I've understood."

And without saying any more, they both face the screen again. The girl on-screen is now waving a weapon that Felix is sure she hadn't had a few seconds ago, and the monster is dead- or this that the monster's brother? Cousin? At this point, he wouldn't be surprised if the monster had never even existed at all. 

The room is bathed in green once more. Felix grabs more popcorn, just about to settle down and actually pay attention this time, when Jisung interrupts him.

"Do you think the guys next door like anime?"

Okay, well _that_ gets his attention. Felix turns his head around so quickly he might have gotten whiplash. "What?"

"You know," Jisung gestures lazily with his hand towards the wall, eyes still fixed on the screen, "The two guys you keep hanging out with. What was it, uh- Chan? And... Minhee? Minhae?"

"Minho?"

Jisung points at him, "That's the one." He still hasn't looked up, and seems to be content to leave the conversation at that. Felix, however, has can't stop thinking about the implications behind his words.

_You keep hanging out with._

It's true. More often than not, Felix can be found over at their apartment. Not on purpose at first, but simply a way to occupy his time, another way to spend a few more minutes outside of his own falling-apart flat. He enjoyed their company more than anything, and that simple fact had drawn him back more times than he could count.

Minho had refused to let him leave when he'd hurt his ankle, and maybe it had begun there. Even when it turned out he hadn't fractured his foot, simply bruised his skin in the wrong places, they'd been hesitant to let him go. The weather had calmed down, and yet Chan had still insisted on driving him back. Felix had kept his head down the whole time, trying to avoid showing his red cheeks when Chan saw the state his apartment building was in.

Maybe that's why they kept inviting him around.

At first it was to watch the sequel of the film he'd chosen. Then it was to start a new series, one they assured him he'd love. When Felix watched it, and it was exactly the kind of show he'd fallen in love with hundreds of times before, the queasy swirling feeling in his stomach got a little stronger.

That didn't stop him from leaving a pair of his slippers over at their flat, though.

Or that jacket, which he'd promised himself he'd pick up at least two weeks ago. Or that hoodie Chan had accidently spilt milkshake on and insisted on washing. He'd passed him one of his own hoodies that Felix could wear until his own was returned. It was large, since even though they were a similar height, Chan was _ripped_ in comparison to him, and black. There was a yellow skateboarding logo on the front, the sleeves were so long they completely covered his hands, and it was possibly the softest thing Felix had ever worn.

It was safe to say it was still lying on Felix's floor, and that Chan wouldn't be getting it back any time soon.

Felix frowns, finally looking away from Jisung and back to the screen. Okay, so maybe he does hang around with them a lot. But it's not like Jisung is any better, with how much he follows that dance major around. The screen flashes neon green, illuminating them both in the colour.

It's tacky and fake. The exact kind of colour that's designed at _just_ the right shade to burn into your retinas. There are so many nicer shades of green out there, and Felix finds his mind drifting again, back to Minho and Chan's apartment.

More specifically, to the sunflowers he'd noticed in the corner of the kitchen counter, the last time he'd visited.

The stalks had been a bright vibrant green, maybe that's what had caused him to think about it at first, and Felix hadn't given them a second look. There'd been a colourful flyer beside them, something about a florists and Valentine's Day, and he'd assumed it was just advertisement.

Then he'd noticed his favourite brand of sweet tea in the fridge, and every thought of the sunflowers had disappeared. That had been a bit strange as well, since neither Chan nor Minho drank sweet tea, but it had probably been one of their friends. 

"Well?"

Jisung's voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and Felix has to go back a good few seconds to realise what the slightly-older boy is waiting for him to reply to.

"Maybe," he says, frowning, "I reckon Chan likes some of the older stuff, but I'm not sure about Minho. They seem to watch a lot of the same stuff, though. I wouldn't be surprised if they were both into Sailor Moon or something."

Jisung hums in appreciation. He wriggles in place, almost kicking the bowl of popcorn over. He's still for approximately one scene, eyes wide as someone on-screen gets their head bitten off, and then he hits the space bar with his foot. The picture freezes mid-bloodbath, and Felix rolls his eyes at the badly animated gore. He grabs some more popcorn, before realising that Jisung's staring at him.

"What?"

Their sides are pressed close together. It's the only way that they'd both had a good view of Jisung's tiny laptop, and it means that when Jisung turns his whole body to stare at Felix, he knows it must be something serious.

"What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

Jisung glances towards Minho and Chan's apartment again. "You know they're dating, right?"

" _What?_ "

"Dude! How did you not know! They're the most disgustingly affectionate couple on campus! I think the girl next to me in Bio has a whole-ass fan account dedicated to them?"

Felix recoils. "Really?"

At that, Jisung's face softens. "Did you really not know? Apparently, they met on TikTok or something a few years ago, and they've been together ever since."

Felix's mind is still racing to catch up. He can't be bothered with correcting Jisung- that _actually_ , he did know they were dating. His original question had been more aimed at the fact Jisung thought he was oblivious enough to not know they were together, and the second at the whole fan-account statement. But something else has caught his attention.

Jisung's face had softened.

Maybe he could have been imagining it, but... No, thinking back, his voice had also gone all weird and sympathetic. Felix knew, because Jisung was terrible at trying to break news to people.

Which just went to pose the question of: why did Jisung think the news of Minho and Chan dating was something that Felix needed to be let down lightly on?

Did he think Felix likes them?

Felix is about to open his mouth to reply, when something important decides to make itself known. The pretty big, glaring problem in truthfully admitting he that he doesn't like them, is that- _does_ he like them?

That beating in his heart whenever he's just outside of their apartment door, that's normal. It's perfectly acceptable behaviour to never want to return Chan's hoodie, and he's sure it's just as normal that whenever he's over, he can't help but eye up some of Minho's clothes as well.

Okay, maybe he feels light-headed when he sees them. Maybe he's now happier than he'd been in a long time, and he wouldn't give up their bi-weekly film nights for the world. Maybe he does check his phone every fifteen minutes to see if they've replied to a meme he'd sent, and maybe he can't quite describe the ecstatic feeling of joy when they always have, without fail.

Or maybe-

The sunflowers in the corner of their kitchen seem to catch his eye again, despite him not actually being there.

A single petal falls from the flower. It drifts towards the ground, brilliant yellow slightly dulled in the harsh light of the real world. In just a few moments, the rest of the plant will follow, leaving behind nothing more than a dying-up skeleton.

"That makes sense." He bites his lip, making sure not to look at Jisung again. His hands are shaking, he realises, as he pushes his fingers through his hair in an attempt to seem normal. The movement simply dislodges the flower-crown that had been sitting there. He watches as the bright yellow flowers fall to the ground, and tries to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach.

He can't have feelings for them.

He _can't_.

There's just no way it would ever work out. His stomach turns at even the thought. If anything, he'd just be getting in the way of a perfectly functional relationship. Standing in the way of Minho and Chan's perfect life ahead of them, dragging them back with a bruised ankle and films they'd probably already seen a thousand times before.

They probably just couldn't find the words to tell him to leave him alone. That after he'd hurt his foot, they'd just taken him back to their apartment out of sympathy, and now found themselves stuck with an annoying brat who just wouldn't seem to go away.

Or- he swallows, maybe not that bad.

He doubts that they hate him. They wouldn't have invited him back otherwise, and to try and convince himself otherwise would just be stupid. It was more likely that they saw him as a new, strictly platonic, friend.

"Felix?" Jisung is sitting up properly now, staring at him in concern. The laptop has been kicked away in favour of actually turning a light on, and Felix is thankful. He doesn't think he could stand to watch another episode just now. His stomach is heaving, and the bright colours hurt his head.

"I think-" he's standing up before he's even finished his sentence, making his way over to the door out of the apartment. He can hear Jisung scrambling to catch up with him, and unsuccessfully trying to get his balance more times than what's probably healthy, "I'll go home now. I'm not feeling too well."

"Felix-" Jisung calls after him, but he's too late. Felix is out of the door before anyone can stop him, and the cool air of the corridor brings a little peace to his mind.

Jisung won't come after him.

He knows when to give Felix some space, and although he might lack tact at most times, he's not completely clueless. He can hear the lock click behind him, the tell-tale signs of the older boy preparing to continue their anime marathon on his own, and lets out a sigh of relief.

Felix breathes in, forcing himself to break out of the spiral he'd found himself in. He's left in an empty corridor, alone with his thoughts. The doorway leading to the stairs looks so far away, but he knows it's just because of one door he has to walk past in order to reach it.

The grey concrete walls of the apartment walls stare back at him.

The colour is cold and unforgiving, so much so that Felix isn't surprised that he finds goosebumps on his arms. One of his hands has gone down to rub at the sunflowers stitched into his washed-out jeans overalls. The thought of them has always grounded him. The control of his appearance is something he's always clung onto, something that he's always had, even when the rest of his life is crumbling down around him.

Washed-out jeans overall. Oversized baby-blue t-shirt. Light pink converse to match the blush on his cheeks. When he moves, the dangling chains on his earrings brush his neck. Going through the list clears his head, makes his straighten his back, puts the slightest smile on his face.

Right.

He can do this.

He can get through anything, as long as he smiles and keeps up his appearance. 

There's a slight hint of mourning for the flower-crown he'd left on the floor in Jisung's apartment, but that's simply a casualty that can't be avoided. He'll pick it up another time. Maybe even get Jisung to drop it back at his, and tease the slightly-older boy about that dance major to take his mind off of things.

He can't stay here for any longer. The guilt is gnawing into his stomach, that tiny voice in his head mocking him. It calls him a homewrecker, calls him selfish, calls him conceited and narcissistic. How dare he try to come between Chan and Minho. How dare he, when they've been nothing but kind.

Is this how he repays them?

But Felix isn't blind. He takes a step forward, and finds that he can't move further than the apartment door. He may talk down about himself, but he's not stupid. He can see how Minho and Chan treat him, no matter how much his brain tells him he's overthinking their simple kindness. He knows it must be more than friendship.

He can't stop that self-loathing no matter how many times he tries to console himself, but he'd not stupid.

The door doesn't seem to let him go.

The concrete walls of the corridor are no place for sunflowers to grow.

He's ringing the doorbell before he can convince himself out of it. His finger stays on the button for a slight second too long, and still hovers over the plastic block when voices are heard through the thin wood. He can't bring himself to move too far. He's still so scared that he'll just run away.

"Felix!" Minho opens the door. He looks surprised for a second, taking in Felix's frozen form, before pulling the smaller boy inside. Out from the cold concrete walls. The vase of sunflowers is still sitting in the corner of the room, Felix can't help but notice, and one petal has indeed fallen.

It lies bright and vibrant against the pale counter.

All the colour that had been stolen from Felix lies in that one petal, leaving him washed-out.

"You're nervous," comments Chan, coming in from another room. He's got a bright leaflet in his hands, but he puts it down as he enters, flopping onto the sofa. 

Felix frowns, wondering how they knew, before- he looks down. "Oh." Sure enough, his thumb rubs over the stitched sunflowers in tiny circles, feeling each and every stitch. "I guess- yeah, I am."

But standing there, the world just seems to get a little smaller. Chan smiles at him, Minho is closing the door somewhere behind them, and yet Felix can't bring himself to smile back. His body is on fire, head screaming at him to get out.

If he doesn't act now, he might never.

"I really like you."

His stomach twists, and the winter snow of his mind gets a little colder. But he's already started, and the words seem to pour from his mouth like a waterfall.

"And I'm so, _so_ sorry. But I like you so much- both of you- and I think that's something you should know. You can hate me after this, I'd understand if you hate me after this, hell, _I_ hate myself after this, but it's something you need to know. I really like you. I-" his voice hitches, "-really like you."

Chan's smile doesn't change. He glows bright in the way that Felix can't, and tucks one stray bit of hair behind his ear. It's getting slightly too long, falling in his eyes and covering up his careful eyeshadow, but it's still beautiful. Felix wants so badly to run his fingers through it, pressing his forehead to Chan's shoulder, curled up close to both of them.

He smiles, and the world seems to light up.

Behind him, Minho glows just as brilliantly.

He comes around from the side as if Felix had never spoken, but his eyes dance with something he can't identify. The chains around his hips ring like delicate wind-chimes. He's unfurling like petals in spring, with the bite of a chill winter day. The shifting of the seasons has just begun, snow bleeding into soft grass, as Chan and Minho are the first few flowers pushing their heads through the cold air.

"Felix," says Minho, voice softer than the chimes around his waist.

Felix smiles. He's an imposter in his own skin. Bleeding out with every colour he's ever been, bright yellow and pastel pink puddling around him. Light blue stains his skin, soft purple seeps into his shoes. The sunflowers have never seen more plastered on.

It's too cold for them to grow now, and Felix longs for the spring Chan and Minho seem to hold so effortlessly. 

"You say that as if we don't feel the same way for you."


	3. sunflowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starting spring on a high with a long-overdue chapter  
> this one is based the most heavily on the original prompt, so i hope you enjoy!

Like all good things, it comes to an end eventually. 

Spring is coming. It's still a few months away, with the calendar just turning the page from January to February, but it's coming nonetheless. The snow melts from the roads, the frost crawls down from the windows, and the grass gets a little greener. It's not quite March yet, but there are pink buds on the cherry blossom tree outside their apartment, and daffodils raise their heads from the frozen ground.

Winter, and all of its cold days, begins to seep away.

"What's this?"

Chan turns around, not expecting it to be anything serious. He'd invited Changbin around for a late-night producing session, only to find that their usual studio had been double-booked. Unfortunately for the two college students, they hadn't quite had the money to bribe off the receptionist, and they'd ended up getting kicked out. 

There was equipment at his apartment, of course, but it was nowhere near 'good'. At least half of the more intricately smaller buttons had been lost down the side of the sofa a long time ago. It was passable for those random bursts of inspiration, but for the kind of project they were expecting to work on...

Which, in turn, lead them to where they are now.

Searching for a cable that Chan was _sure_ he'd had a few weeks ago. He'd even painted it with silver stripes from his nail polish to make sure it didn't get lost, but that evidently hadn't worked. 

"What's what?" Chan isn't sure what he's expecting Changbin to be holding up. There’s all sorts of weird stuff in their room. A mixture of the dedication to the e-boy life and Felix dropping off random things in the middle of the night meant the cupboards were filled with a whole range of things. Minho swore he even saw something _moving_ in there once.

"This isn't yours."

In his hands, Changbin holds out a purple crop top. It's light in colour, complete with white bubble writing on the front, and even from this distance, Chan can see the embroidered flowers on the collar.

Maybe Chan could lie. He could pretend it's his. It wouldn't be that hard, considering his reputation for strange fashion choices already, and Changbin would never push too far. He could claim it's a new TikTok trend, that it was a joke present from his almost one-million subscribers on the app.

But it's no obviously not his.

It's much too small. Although the sizing itself isn't too far off, it's a style obviously made for someone with a lot less muscle on their body. He could pretend it's Minho's, but the same problem still applies. It simply isn't made for someone of his body type.

There's no label on the shirt, so it's obviously been worn. The fact that someone has taken the time to stitch flowers into the collar shows it must be precious, not the type of thing to be forgotten so easily. 

Chan wants to turn back time, just for a few seconds. When the flowers outside were a little less unfurled, and before Changbin had ever stepped inside the apartment. Felix's shirt hangs heavy in his hands, practically glowing against the yellow light from the streets outside.

This Changbin.

He can't lie to Changbin.

He would know he wasn't telling the truth in a heartbeat. Before he's even finished his sentence, Changbin would have noticed how his hands were shaking, and how his eyes darted across the room. There's no way he can't tell the truth, but at the same time, he's not ready.

This isn't something he can just blurt out.

This is much bigger than him, much bigger than Minho, and much bigger than Felix.

This is something they haven't talked about yet. Skirting around the fact that people exist outside of their little bubble, too afraid of the judging stares and too stubborn to admit that there's a whole world out there. It's been waiting there in plain sight for a chance to be discussed for a while now, but they're all too afraid to address it. 

And now Chan's stomach is filled with a sick apprehension.

They should have talked sooner. They _should_ have, but no amount of regret can change the past. He swallows down the metallic taste in the back of his mouth, and wishes this had never happened. He can't explain this to Changbin - whatever _this_ is - without talking to Minho and Felix first. His mind is filled with boundaries and question marks. He'd never forgive himself if he said something either of them wouldn't want him to.

Chan smiles. 

He takes the shirt from Changbin, and folds it neatly, placing it on the bed-covers. Peeking out from beneath the sheets is a familiar black-and-silver striped cable, so he bends down and picks it up. 

"Chan?" Changbin asks, with too much tenderness for someone who'd been so accusatory mere minutes ago. He stares at the cable in Chan's hands for just as long as Chan does, too afraid to look up in the event of accidentally meeting eyes.

Chan smiles. His hands don't shake, his eyes don't dart across the room, and he says "Don't worry. I'll explain everything soon."

\---

To a point, 'soon' never comes. 

In fact, Chan forgets about the whole incident quickly. He leaves the shirt out to remind him, but Minho comes and tidies it away only an hour later. The post-it note Changbin make shim write out and stick to his forehead falls off, and it's become much too late for either of them to realise. They're caught up in the potential of a chord progression instead, and Changbin eventually writes off the entire experience as some sort of fever dream.

'Soon' has to wait a little longer. 

It's Minho who stumbles across a similar problem, only a few days later. He'd invited Seungmin and Jeongin to get bubble tea after a particularly strenuous vocal lesson, but had forgotten his wallet in his apartment. 

There had only been a brief moment of hesitation before they'd diverted off-route. Although it was another five minutes from the coffee shop, he'd promised Seungmin and Jeongin that he'd buy, and they'd never pass up the opportunity to get a free drink.

"I'll only be a few seconds." Minho lets the apartment door swing open as he darts inside. They've been over a thousand times before anyway, and there's no doubt in his mind that he'll be able to find his wallet quickly. It's got a distinctive silver chain attached to the keyring on one side, and he's _sure_ he put it on the cabinet near the door.

He's in such a rush that he doesn't stop to think of what else might be on the cabinet near the door. 

"Is that..."

Seungmin has stepped inside, and peers at an open Amazon box sitting on the side. It's got their address painfully displayed on the side, and the paper packaging has been ripped apart haphazardly. There's a roll of wrapping-paper leaning against the wall next to it.

Minho doesn’t look up at first. There's a pile of paperwork that hadn't been there earlier covering most of the tabletop, and he knows at this point what he'll find underneath it. Sure enough, once he's gathered most of the sheets into a pile, he can see his wallet. Distinctive chain and all.

"Who are these for?"

He turns around a second too late. Seungmin has already pulled the contents of the Amazon box out. He holds them up with squinting eyes, as if to make sure that he's not seeing things.

There are two Nintendo Switch games in his hands. 

The covers of the games are so distinctive. Bright colours and everything, still wrapped in their pristine plastic coverings. They're obviously brand new. Glossy in the way that only expensive things are, catching the yellow light of the hallway outside, and both newly released titles as well.

Felix had been so excited when he'd seen them in the shop window.

His eyes had lit up, hands flying out to stop Minho and Chan in their tracks, just so he could press his face up against the glass for a little longer. He'd saved up for a Switch, they gathered, but couldn't afford much more. He could have talked for hours about the latest game in his favourite series, and once they'd arrived back at the apartment, he'd forced them both to watch all the latest teasers and trailers.

Minho had ordered them both from Amazon that very night. 

Chan had stood at his shoulder, wincing slightly at the price, but very quickly deciding that it was worth it. They could just make out Felix's silhouette in the Living Room, as he stitched matching peonies and alstroemeria onto the sleeves of his jacket. 

It was definitely worth it.

"What?" Jeongin grabs one of the cases in Seungmin's hands, inspecting it himself. "I thought you said you'd never spend that much on us?"

Minho practically lunges forwards. He doesn't use his strength against his friends very often, but that doesn't mean they've forgotten how intimidating he can be when he wants to. Jeongin hands over the case as soon as Minho starts to move, and Seungmin doesn't put up any resistance either.

He does, however, look at Minho with increasingly calculating eyes. "They're not for us," he says eventually. 

"They're not?"

"Nope." He doesn't look away from Minho, but Minho doesn't break eye contact either. On the inside, he's completely freaking out, but Seungmin doesn't need to know that. "Which begs the question," continues Seungmin, "Who _are_ they for?"

Minho places the games back in the Amazon box they came from. He's got his wallet in his other hand, and manages to push both Seungmin and Jeongin back into the corridor by simply moving forwards. 

His mouth is dry.

But he still manages to smile at them as he shuts the door behind himself. "I'll tell you later," he says, hoping with every step they take that Seungmin and Jeongin will be so distracted by their bubble teas that they'll forget this ever happened. "Now, stop asking questions or I'll make you pay for yourselves."

\---

The bubble tea does distract them. It does its job well, and soon Jeongin and Seungmin forget they ever saw the switch games in the first place, suspicion forgotten in lieu of arguing about who got more sprinkles on their drink. 

Unfortunately, it does the job rather too well. 

Minho also leaves his concerns behind him in the apartment. As soon as they enter the shop, his mind is filled with too many possibilities that it's impossible to focus on a single worry. They never quite leave Felix and Chan, instead now just wondering whether it would be possible to bring them each a drink back.

Despite his best efforts, 'later' joins 'soon' in a flowerbed of forgotten promises.

And because the world seems to work in threes, it's Felix who stumbles across the problem next. 

He's pulling Jisung across the campus - or is it Jisung who's pulling him? Either way, they're moving. The sky is cloudy and the air is chill, just another reminder that Spring hasn't quite arrived yet, and the grass still crunches beneath their feet as they sprint across the grass. They avoid the huge trees and corresponding patches of flowers with a surprising grace, unhindered by their large coats. A rainy forecast had persuaded them into wearing them, and Felix already had enough bad memories of winter weather to last a lifetime.

It's worth it after all, if Hirai Momo really _is_ throwing out all of her anime DVDs. 

"Come on!" Jisung tugs on Felix's sleeve a little harder, solving the problem of who was dragging who. He skids around a particularly large oak as he speaks, "Mina said she had a limited edition of One Piece! I'll never be able to forgive myself if we get there and it's alre-"

His words cut off mid-sentence.

Logically, Felix should be able to work out that it probably means Jisung has stopped running. It should have been even more obvious when he threw himself around the tree, only to see that the slightly older boy had stopped right in his tracks.

Felix, however, does not work it out until he's skidding forward with too much speed to slow himself down in time.

There's just enough time for him to panic briefly, let out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak, and then he crashes right into Jisung. They go flying, sliding at least a few feet forward. With no chance of ever regaining their balance, they hit the mud together, limbs tangled together and faces pressed into the ground.

The world spins for a few moments. Felix brings his hand to his temple, wincing slightly when he realises just how sore his forehead is, and then only working out a second later that his hand was covered in mud. He groans at the thought, pushing himself away from Jisung slightly. "What happened?"

Jisung scrambles to his feet almost immediately. He pulls Felix up as well, face pale beneath the mud coating his skin. " _Dude_. _Hot Dance Major._ "

Felix squints into the distance. Where's Jisung looking? Who could he be referring to? It takes him a second, but sure enough there's a figure making their way towards them. Tall, brown floppy hair falling into his face, a beauty spot underneath his eye. He is pretty handsome, objectively speaking, just not Felix's type at all. He also looks vaguely familiar, probably from when Felix had taken a few dance classes at the beginning of term.

He's so focused on trying to remember what his name is, that he almost doesn't notice the fact that he's heading straight for them. 

Jisung drags him behind the tree with surprising ease. He presses both their bodies up against the bark, squeezing Felix's hand like a lifeline. Even from this distance, Felix can tell how fast his heart is beating, his pulse racing from where their wrists are pressed together. "Did you see him?" he says between gasps for air, "Is coming? Where did he go?"

Felix doesn't get the chance to respond.

Before he can open his mouth, a head sticks itself around the side of the tree. Both Jisung and Felix almost jump out of their skin, before realising it's the hot dance major, staring at them with a look of confusion and concern.

"Jisung?" He asks, taking in how completely covered in mud they are, "I saw you fall. Are you okay?"

"Hyunjin," Jisung says, which probably isn't the reply the boy - _Hyunjin_ \- was looking for. "Fancy seeing you here."

"You hit the ground pretty hard," Hyunjin continues. He points to the patch of ground they'd landed on, and sure enough, there's a rather large patch of mud that hadn't been there before. A few spring flowers were almost caught in the collision, and a few of their petals lie muddied and pressed into the grass. 

"I'm fine!" Jisung manages to squeak out. "Felix, you're good as well, right?"

Luck really isn't on Felix's side today. He opens his mouth to confirm that _yes, he wasn't hurt in the fall_ , but Hyunjin gets there before him. He grabs the other sleeve of the coat Felix is wearing, squinting into the fabric as if it were most interesting thing he's ever seen.

Felix only realises a second too late why that might be.

The thing is, it's not his coat _as per se_. It might as well, be, since neither of its true owners have asked for it back, but it's still distinctively theirs. Felix's own coat had gained a massive hole in the sleeve (something Jisung claimed was there through no fault of his own), but before he could even suggest going out to buy a replacement, Chan had passed him a dark swathe of fabric.

It was short, stopping just above his waist. Not puffy or cute enough to be something Felix would pick out for himself, but the fact it was at least one size to big meant he practically drowned in the soft fabric. There were silver chains hanging from one of the pockets, matching the shiny buttons leading down from the collar. 

It was warm and comfortable, and Felix had _meant_ to give it back. Really, he had!

Except, now he's really wishing that he didn't have such an attachment to the garment. 

"Is this Chan's jacket?" Hyunjin asks. He hasn't let go of Felix's sleeve yet, and so Felix tugs it away, hiding his hand behind his back and pressing his body even flatter against the tree. "Where did you get this?"

The tone of his words gains the attention of Jisung as well, who joins in the peering over the fabric.

Hyunjin frowns, inspecting the fabric further. "Or maybe it's Minho's? I always get confused between whose clothes actually belong to wh-."

He stops himself mid-sentence, suddenly realising that he's talking out loud. "It doesn't matter which one of them it belongs to," he says, taking a step forward. Felix can't blame him, not really. He knows that Chan and Minho have never mentioned him to their friends, and that Hyunjin is only protecting them. For all he knows, Felix could have broken into their apartment and stolen it. "Where did you get it from?"

"I-" Felix sqeaks.

Hyunjin tilts his head to the side. "If you did steal it, you didn't do it very well. Chan spilt nail polish on the sleeve, and the mark is _still there_." He pauses, as if thinking through what he'd just said, and then- " _Did_ you steal it? Is that why you were running?"

Felix wants to curl up and never open his eyes again.

He's pretty sure his cheeks are on fire, hands shaking like never before. If there wasn't a tree behind him, he's certain his legs wouldn't have been able to hold his weight for much longer. Jisung squeezes his hand, bringing him back to earth slightly, but it doesn't do much to help.

What can he say?

There's nothing he can possibly do that Hyunjin will believe. Even telling the truth seems like an intricate lie. And - he hadn't even told Jisung yet, what if his best friend thought it was just as weird and messed up as Hyunjin would? 

"I can explain," he says.

He can't. He really can't - there's nothing for him to explain that he shouldn't talk through with Minho and Chan first. He can't betray their trust like this, and yet he's so, _so_ scared. Hyunjin is so intimidating, and he's a _dancers_. Felix hasn't danced properly - not counting the classes he's very briefly taken - for years; he'd be able to beat him up easily. 

"Running!" Jisung exclaims. His voice is muffled, like he's standing at some distance away, but Felix latches onto the sound. "We were running for the anime sale! Felix, we're going to miss One Piece. This is _important!_ "

It's not that important.

It's just another anime DVD, one that Jisung is too stubborn to buy. If they miss it here, they can always go back to scrolling down dodgy ebay pages. There's another chance, the DVD isn't even that limited edition. It's not that important.

But it is, importantly, a distraction.

Jisung is still holding Felix's hand, and suddenly he's being pulled out from against the tree, back to sprinting across the muddy grass. Hyunjin ia too far behind to follow - or maybe Jisung and Felix are running faster than they've ever moved before. 

A few unlucky flowers got caught underfoot in their escape attempt, but the petals are still bright against the bark of the oak tree. 

They're suddenly back on pavement, taking a sharp left, then an even sharper right, and then Jisung stops.

It could be just to get their breath back, but Felix would never consider himself that naive. Jisung looks at Felix. More specifically, at his coat, at the chains hanging from the pocket and the expensive silver buttons. The glint of nail polish on the sleeve. 

"You don't have to explain, if you don't want to," he says.

Felix still feels ill. His head hurts, but his heart hurts even more. A talk is long overdue, and the guilt is eating him up inside. But he still manages to smile back at Jisung. 

He takes his hand, and squeezes it once. Just like Jisung had done back at the tree. Although he hasn't mentioned it, there's no way Jisung has much of a chance with the hot dance major now. It's all Felix's fault. 

"I'll explain everything," he says, "Eventually."

\---

'Eventually' is different from 'later' and 'soon'. 

Jisung does get his One Piece DVD, and promptly forgets all the events leading up to it. It won't last long, however. Felix knows that the next time he sees Hyunjin, everything will come flooding back, and this time he won't be so quick to forget. 

If 'soon' is peonies, and 'later' is alstroemeria, then 'eventually' becomes bright yellow sunflowers. Felix stitches his promises into his shirts to remind him. 

It takes a week, but 'soon' and 'later' and 'eventually' collide. It's an explosion of petals. Dusky pinks and sunshine yellows, tinted whites bleeding into dark reds. Felix's heart has never beaten so quickly, Minho's hands have never shaken this much, the bags under Chan's eyes have never been so dark.

An order gets placed at the flower shop near their university.

It's a nice shop, much too expensive for a casual bouquet, but their Valentine's Day offer is too good to refuse.

They order peonies and alstroemeria as usual. The same size as last year, and the same arrangement. Still, the shop assistant can't hide the surprise in her voice when they ask for sunflowers as well. 

The bouquet ends up looking beautiful anyway. It sits proudly on the table in the corner of the room, freshly cut flowers still spreading up towards the light, a Valentine's Day offer for Valentine's day. 

The sofa in the front room is full. Hyunjin had arrived first and taken up most of the soft seats just by himself, stretching out his legs in a way that forced Seungmin and Jeongin to sit on the floor. There had been mild outcry when Felix's friend Jisung had arrived and been offered a space, but a full-blown mutiny was discarded in favour of waiting patiently. 

It was rather amusing, if Chan looked at it from the right angle. If this were any other day, Seungmin wouldn't have stood for Hyunjin's knees digging into his back. When Changbin had arrived and promptly dragged a stall in from the kitchen to sit on, Jeongin would normally have managed to charm him into giving it up. 

But they're all too curious.

Curious, and confused. No one wants to make the first move, too afraid that if they do something wrong, they'll never find out what's been playing on Chan and Minho's minds. They're worried that they'll never know why the boy from the apartment next door is here, or why Minho still hasn't turned up. 

The tension in the room is heavy. It's awful, so suffocating that Chan's being pushed under. His skin burns under their inspecting eyes. They don't mean to make judgements, he tries to reassure himself, they're his _friends_.

They won't leave after this. What's he so worried for? They put up with his stupid eboy fashion sense. Seungmin and Hyunjin regularly help him film videos for TikTok, Changbin's produced hundreds of tracks with him. 

But, still-

"Chan.." says Changbin, uncharacteristically soft with his voice. He cares, he so deeply cares that it's tearing him in half to say what they've all been thinking. "This explanation... Are you sure you want Minho to be here as well?"

They think he's being cheated on.

Or, by the looks of how Seungmin and Jeongin stiffen at the words, they think he's the one cheating.

Chan's eyes flash, biting back the beginnings of a reply. He feels ill from keeping this a secret for so long, and the fact that Minho's not next to him is making it so much harder. There's only a door and a wall separating them, he _knows_ that, he _knows_ Felix and Minho are just in the other room, but it still hurts. He can only imagine what's going through his friends' minds.

He doesn't want to imagine. He _wants_ to tell them, but he's still so scared. 

But as if he knows that Chan's panicking, Minho pokes his head through the door. There's the same smile on his face that makes Chan's heart melt every time he sees it, the same smile that makes his snakebite piercings glint in the Christmas lights. There's the shadow of a figure behind him, the faintest hint of a pastel pink jumper behind him. 

He's ready.

 _They're_ ready.

This is actually happening.

"So," Chan starts, wincing when it sounds so much harsher out loud. He tugs on his striped sleeves, half-wishing that he hadn't chosen to wear something with so many chains. They brush together with every nervous pace he takes, ringing out in the quiet of the apartment. "I think this explanation is long overdue." 

Minho steps out from the doorway, and Chan raises his eyebrows in surprise. This... wasn't the plan. Well, if you could count an hour-long tear stained conversation as a plan. They'd been so tired when they'd decided to finally reveal everything, and some of that strange numbness hasn't quite worn off yet. 

It takes a few painstakingly long seconds, but eventually Minho joins him at the front of the room. Felix's jumper flashes again in the shadows of the bedroom, heart pounding in his chest and anxiety keeping him grounded to the floor. "There's something we've been thinking of telling you for a long time."

"Then why didn't you?" Hyunjin calls from the sofa, frowning from where he's leaning against Jisung. "You know we'd never judge you. We might have originally only been friends with one of you, but we'd never take sides. You know that."

"If you're struggling, we can help you talk it through," adds Changbin. 

"There's all kinds of couple counselling sessions now," Jeongin says, shifting nervously, "You guys are like my parents. I don't know what I'd _do_ if you broke up!"

Hyunjin nudges him, "Don't pressure them into anything," he says.

 _That's not right_ , Chan wants to say. They don't need 'couple counselling'. They've never been stronger together, never been stronger with all _three_ of them, and keeping all his emotions inside is getting harder by the minute. 

"It's something else."

Of course, it's Seungmin who speaks. He takes the whole room by surprise, but his own eyes never leave from where they're flitting between Chan and Minho. "I'm right, aren't I? It's something else."

Minho smiles, and Chan's never been this grateful for his patience. "Yeah. But... it's not that simple. There's been a lot of variables in this, and we didn't want to tell anyone anything before we were certain. Of course, we didn't plan for you to start piecing things together on your own, though."

There's a pause. And then, "So you _are_ breaking up?" says Changbin. 

"No!" Chan shakes his head, and his whole body practically sinks with the reassurance when there's a collective sigh of relief from the crowd in front of them. "But this is just as important."

Again, silence. Chan can practically hear their minds working, see the way Hyunjin is frowning and the way Jeongin is biting his lip in confusion. He can't blame them, honestly, but that doesn't stop the nerves from bubbling up in his chest.

"There's something we need to tell you," Minho continues, "Or- someone you need to meet."

The bedroom door opens. 

He's wearing a pink sweater, so oversized it spills out from the side of his light-blue dungarees. The spring day is still early and dark, but even then, it's still possible to see the blush on his cheeks, the hint of colour on his eyelids and the glitter dancing amongst his freckles. The sweater swallows his hands, making it hard to see his already tiny fingers when he waves shyly to the boys on the sofa. 

" _Holy shit,_ " someone says, but their voice is so far away. 

"I think you've been waiting to meet him for a long time," says Chan. His voice has the same faint quality, as if he's deep underwater. But Minho Fis by his side, he's by Minho's side, and- "This is our boyfriend, Felix."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!
> 
> please stay safe. count this as your daily reminder to wash your hands (it's what felix would do!!!), and try and stay healthy!  
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> you'll notice i've changed a few things from the original 'valentine boy', but we're still not quite at the main plot yet hehe 👀
> 
> please leave a comment! (preferably with pastel felix outfit ideas pls i am Struggling) i love seeing what people think, so don't be shy!
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sunnyesque) for various updates and sneak pics at this fic and others!
> 
> EDITED 21/9/20


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